Christine Stoddard

Christine Stoddard

Bio

Originally from Virginia, Christine Stoddard is a Salvadoran-Scottish-American writer and artist. She also is the founding editor of Quail Bell Magazine, a place for real and unreal stories from around the world. Her art and stories have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Bustle,The Huffington Post, Vivala, The Feminist Wire, the New York Transit Museum, Philly Fringe Fest, and beyond. She also is the author of Hispanic and Latino Heritage in Virginia (The History Press, 2016). In 2014, Folio Magazine named Christine one of the media industry's top visionaries in their 20s.

Christine Stoddard Articles

Illustrations by Ajah Courts (http://cargocollective.com/ajahcourts/Quail-Bell)

China Street: Fiction From Quail Bell Magazine

The moon sauntered out from a curtain of clouds, whispering, “All things must end.”

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Social media notoriously gives its users the opportunity to present their lives as perfect and conflict-free. Image: Thinkstock.

My Friend's Instagram Post About Her Miscarriage Changed How I See Social Media

I scrolled through my Instagram feed to catch a photo of a friend’s first tattoo. It was an abstract design that paid homage to her wedding venue, a distinctive historic site in her home state. The tattoo seemed sweet at first, but then I read the photo caption. My friend had gotten inked to honor the child she lost in miscarriage.

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By the end of the first haunted house rehearsal, I knew the job would truly test my abilities to carry my body and voice well.

 Working At A Haunted House Was Better Than Therapy 

Before I became a haunted house performer, I thought having my face touched was one of the creepiest things imaginable. But it wasn't the eerie set music or the beheaded baby dolls that changed my definition of scary. It was what went on in the green room.

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After wearing glasses since fourth grade and contacts since high school, I was eager to see the world unassisted. Image: Liam Welch/Unsplash.

Life After LASIK: Seeing The World On My Own Terms

I was shivering and sweating. What if the procedure didn't work? What if I had serious complications? What if I had to come back?

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You and your husband have a responsibility to integrate yourselves into the neighborhood. (Image: Thinkstock)

When You’re Married To The Only White Man In The Building

When you’re married to the only white man in your apartment building—and one of the very few in the neighborhood—you, as a woman, make a habit of observing him, especially if you’re a woman of color or a mixed race woman. “Will he use his social privilege for good or evil?” is the simple question, but evaluating him in those terms is not so simple.

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image credit: Thinkstock

Love It? Hate It? Vocal Fry Is Everywhere

I cringe when Kim Kardashian opens her pouty lips because I know the onslaught of vocal fry

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It really had been a perfect day. Image: Andrew Itaga/Unsplash.

I Was Shamed For My Budget Wedding, But I Have No Regrets

Some people think that the size and budget of your wedding reflect how much love you and your partner have for each other: The bigger the wedding, the bigger the love. On the other hand, my father likes to joke, “The bigger the wedding, the bigger the divorce.”

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"When I told my husband that his relative comfort on a city street is evidence of his male privilege, the look on his face implied that this was news to him." Image: Thinkstock

Explaining To A Man What It's Like To Be A Woman And Afraid

My now-husband was stunned the first time I told him what I do while walking alone. I mentioned behavior typical of so many city-dwelling women: carrying pepper spray, checking my back every block, trying to look confident while struggling to properly breathe. After a moment of silence, he teared up and said, “I don’t want you to have to worry.”

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If I could go back and tell that little girl to run, I would. I would tell her to fly. I would tell her that being fat doesn't define her. It doesn't make her any less. Image: Thinkstock.

Once The "Fat Kid," Always The "Fat Kid."

Looking back at childhood photos now is bittersweet. In the moment the camera caught, I'm always smiling, but I wasn't always a happy child. I was fat-shamed almost daily.

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Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

When Your White Father Calls You "Exotic"

For years, my white father called my mother’s beauty an “exotic” beauty. When I started to come into my own, he began calling me “exotic,” too. It wasn’t until high school that I began to understand why this word bothered me. Though my father meant it as a compliment, the word “othered” my mother, younger sisters, and me.

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